


Animagi

by Evandar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Animal Transformation, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1889826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evandar/pseuds/Evandar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He likes <b>everything</b> to do with his antlers at the minute. Sirius is pretty sure that if he could show that much enthusiasm for the rest of his form, he’d have the transformation down no problem.</i> - The creation of Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Animagi

For all that James is the best at Transfiguration, the Animagus transformation comes easiest to Sirius. James jokes that it’s because Sirius is a dog even in human form, and then begs him to help Peter and let James focus on his own change.

Peter is held back by fear. Some Gryffindor. He’s read the horror stories – they all have – about Animagus transformations going wrong; people getting stuck part way and dying because they’ve got the wrong organs or something. “A rat heart will kill a human body,” Peter squeaks, but eventually Sirius persuades him to have another go.

“This is important,” he says, eyes fixed on the hangings of Remus’ bed.

Remus is in the hospital wing. Again. His transformation is nowhere near as smooth as theirs will be, and he’s got the scars to prove it. Sirius went to visit him that morning, while James and Peter were still snoring (though he visited again once they’d woken up – Remus didn’t mind), and he’d seen the gouges in Remus’ body, made by his own claws and fangs. He’d seen the shadows under Remus’ eyes and the pallor of his skin, and he never, ever wants to see Remus look like that again.

“I’m never going to get it!” James announces, flopping back onto his bed. There are tiny antlers peeking through his shaggy mop of hair. “What’s the secret, Sirius?”

Sirius can’t find the words to tell him.

…

“Don’t think I don’t know that the three of you are scheming,” Remus says when Sirius comes to deliver his Arithmancy notes. They’re the only ones of the Marauders who take it – James pronounced them nerds in third year until he saw how useful numbers could be for pranks; now they’re visionaries – so it’s another excuse for privacy.

“A little bit unfair, isn’t it? Waiting until I’m bed-ridden.”

Sirius covers Remus’ fingers with his own. “It’s not like that, I promise,” he says. “Cross my heart and all that. It’s a good thing.”

Remus’ fingers flex and shift, and he stares at where Sirius is touching him, a pink flush in his cheeks. Sirius – who’d gripped his hand on instinct, not really noticing what he was doing – moves to pull away, but Remus catches him, lacing their fingers together. “If you promise,” Remus says, smiling.

He’s not talking about potential pranks.

Sirius squeezes his hand gently. “Yeah.”

…

“We should have code names,” James says, shattering Peter’s concentration and earning a pillow to the face from Sirius. His antlers are bigger now – always the first thing to change and the last to change back.

“Don’t you think you should master the transformation first?” Sirius asks a little harsher than he should, but he’s frustrated. It’s another full moon – another night of Remus trapped on his own, ripping himself apart.

“Come on, Sirius,” James wheedles. “We need a break! Right Peter?”

Peter nods, his whiskers quivering.

Sirius sighs. “Fine,” he says. “Code names?”

“For our animal forms,” James says, scooting closer. They’re gathered together on the rug in the middle of their dorm. It’s easier there: more space. If James _ever_ gets it, it means that they won’t have to detangle a stag from bed curtains.

Sirius flicks an antler. “You should be Prongs,” he says.

James laughs and tosses his head. “I like it,” he says, and he would. He likes _everything_ to do with his antlers at the minute. Sirius is pretty sure that if he could show that much enthusiasm for the rest of his form, he’d have the transformation down no problem. “What about Peter?”

“Twitchy?” Sirius suggests, eying the whiskers.

“No!” Peter cries, his voice more shrill than usual. “No way!” 

From the corner of his eye, Sirius can see a grin spreading across James’ face. Peter can see it too – clearly knows that if he doesn’t come up with something then ‘Twitchy’ is going to stick – and he flails for a moment before shouting “Physical attributes!”

James blinks. “Come again?”

“Well, uh,” Peter clears his throat. “We should call ourselves after some of the physical attributes of our forms. I mean, Prongs describes your antlers.”

“Good save,” Sirius mutters, but he’s already thinking and judging by the nodding of his head, James is too. (Either that or those antlers are getting heavy now.)

“Rat. Rat, rat, rat,” James says, propping his chin on his hand. “Rat. Fuzzy. Small. Long tails…Tail! Something to do with his tail!”

“Wormtail?” Peter says, a hopeful note to his voice. It’s not _great_ , but the suggestion’s his own and Sirius knows that it could be a lot worse. Besides, it fits the ‘physical attribute’ criteria to a T.

“Wormtail it is,” James agrees before turning to Sirius. “Grim?”

Sirius grimaces. “Time for more practise,” he says.

…

“Why on earth are they calling you Grim?” Remus asks two days later.

Prongs and Wormtail are now fully in use as nicknames if not in actual forms, and James is trying to get Sirius to warm up to the name Grim. And failing. It’s not right. It doesn’t fit. And yes, he’s well aware that he turns into a huge black dog, but he’s not sure he likes being named after a death omen.

“Is it the latest pun on your name?” Remus continues.

Sirius snorts and shakes his head. “It’s for that thing we’re scheming up. James’ idea. I hate it.”

Remus gives him one of those looks that says he _knows_ Sirius isn’t being entirely honest, and hums softly, returning to his book. Sirius watches him read for a moment, taking in the fall of his hair and the freckles on his nose; looks at him like he hasn’t already memorised Remus’ profile. Then he asks.

“So, you’re Welsh, right?”

Remus looks up at him and nods once. “Is this going somewhere?” He sounds so dubious that Sirius has to grin.

“What’s the Grim called in Welsh?”

“Gwyllgi,” Remus says, and Sirius sighs, flopping back in his chair. 

“Never mind,” he says. “That’s _worse_.”

…

There is a certain temptation, now that he can transform into a black dog, to go and haunt the Slytherin Common Room. He probably would, if what they were doing wasn’t hideously dangerous and illegal: it’s one thing to get detention for turning Snape pink, but getting an Azkaban sentence? No thanks. 

In Azkaban, he won’t be able to help Remus.

“Padfoot,” Remus says.

When they all turn to look at him, he’s got a Divination textbook in his hand, marked with one of his fingers.

“It’s another name for the Grim.” He looks at Sirius. “One of a few, actually, but I thought you’d appreciate something a bit softer-sounding than Barghest and with more vowels than Gwyllgi.”

Sirius feels like he could kiss him. Padfoot is _perfect_. So he does. Kiss him. Right there in the dorm, making Peter splutter and James gag. It’s totally, _totally_ worth it, because Remus apparently doesn’t care about the public setting: he winds his arms around Sirius’ waist and starts to play with the ends of his long hair, pulling Sirius in for more.

They break apart when a pillow slams into the back of Sirius’ head.

“Oi Padfoot! Knock it off!”

…

Finally, _finally_ , James gets it. He does a victory lap of the dorm in celebration, and Sirius and Peter have to take a break in order to detangle him from the bed curtains. When he changes back, he punches the air and whoops before throwing back his head and cackling madly.

“Yes! Now it’s just you Pete!”

Peter ducks his head, suddenly shy. “I don’t think I’m going to get it,” he says. “I’m not as good as-“

“Bullshit,” James says. “You’re halfway there already, and we can both tutor you now. Besides, it’s not like we’ve _all_ got the same motivation Padfoot has.”

He accompanies the last with a kissy face, and Sirius doesn’t hold back when he punches him in the arm. “You’re doing really well, Pete,” he says over the sound of James pretending to cry. “You’ll get it down soon. We need you, remember?”

They do need him. Need his small, agile form to stop the Willow from moving so that they can get down the passage to get to Remus. Sirius is too big to do it himself, and James can’t even navigate a bedroom without getting himself in knots.

“I…” he trails off, looking at them both and then squaring his shoulders. “I can try.”

…

“You know, we never did give you a code name, Remus,” James says the next morning, sitting by Remus’ bedside.

Remus groans. “I need one too?” he asks. “Someone please just kill me.” He squeezes Sirius’ hand gently. “I don’t even know what’s going on.”

“You can be Moony,” James tells him and pats his knee, ignoring any and all protests (there are several). “Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs – the Marauders.”

Remus fixes them all with a very serious look, made more serious by the gash running down the side of his face. “We’re going to get expelled for whatever this is, aren’t we,” he says.

…

It’s the week before the last full moon of the school year when Peter finally gets it. He shrinks in on himself in a smooth blur of movement, and then there’s a rat sitting, shivering, on the rug, staring up at them with beady black eyes. James scoops him up to head-height, prompting a squeal and a lashing tail, but Peter soon settles in his grip.

“Brilliant,” Sirius and James say in unison.

Then James turns to him. “Quick,” he says. “Get Remus. I’ll talk Wormy here into changing back, and then we can show him.”

Sirius nods, and lunges for the door. Remus is studying with Evans in the Common Room, picking her brain for Potions tips that don’t rely on colour, while hiding the fact that he usually uses smell for that class anyway. He looks up when Sirius bounds in, and when Sirius grabs him by the wrist and starts tugging him towards the stairs, he doesn’t resist.

“Sorry, Evans, but he’s mine,” Sirius calls back, and Remus laughs – shocked.

He stops Sirius on the stairs. “What on earth?”

“We did it,” Sirius tells him. “We finished and you have to see.”

With Sirius one step up like this, it brings them to the same height. He leans in for a kiss automatically, kind of liking that he doesn’t have to reach up for once.

“Come on,” he says when he pulls away. “Jimmy-boy’s going to want to make a speech.”

“Wonderful.”

…

“And so, it is with great pride and privilege that we present to you, Mister Moony, Messrs Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.”

Sirius doesn’t get the full effect of how James finishes his speech with a sweeping bow where he transforms halfway through. He’s too busy rediscovering how four feet work, and then resting his head on Remus’ lap whining for a pet. Remus’ fingers find his ears, a spot behind them that makes his tail thump against the floor.

“You’re all mad,” Remus says, sounding awed. “Do you have any idea how many ways this could have gone wrong?”

“Trust us,” Sirius says, turning back but keeping his head right where it is – turns out being pet when he’s human doesn’t feel too bad either. “We could write bloody dissertations on it.” He knows this, the effort they put into it, is going to scupper any and all future excuses for getting out of homework, but he can’t help think that it’s worth it.

“No stone was left unturned in our search for knowledge,” James says, turning back himself. Next to him, Peter shoots up like a weed, staggering with his sudden height.

“We’ve been trying to do this for years,” he says simply.

“But…why?”

“Werewolves don’t attack animals,” Sirius tells him. “And you – it’s horrible, seeing you all torn up every full moon. We thought, if you had company…”

Remus stares at him. At all of them. “Mad,” he repeats. “Absolutely mad.” But he’s smiling. He’s smiling so wide it looks like his face could split. “Thank you.”


End file.
